I have very little use for gender-specificity in anything, including holidays. I have less and less use for holidays. It seems to me that if we need to designate a day on which to celebrate someone because they were born or took part in the birth or raising of another or because we love them in that way or because a fictional character was supposedly born in Bethlehem — whatever the reason; why just one day? And, all too often, the ramped up feasting and festing has more to do with marketing/brainwashing and “should” and “ought” than it has to do with any real emotion, and having celebrated on that day seems to give people the idea they’ve a free pass to be wankers the rest of the year.
So, no. Not a fan. If you manage to love and respect your parents, show it every day, not just once a year.
That said, someone recently referred to me as a “hot daddy”. Now, as far as I know, I have no biological children. On the other hand, I have helped to raise quite a few. On yet another hand, that was not what this fellow was referring to. I quickly pointed out to him that I was not Calvin Klein; i.e. while I have no objections to frolicking with someone not of my generational cohort, I am not rich, famous, nor, “generous” — nor have I any interest left in anyone using me to work out their daddy issues. I never had a daddy so I never had any issues, well, about that anyway.
I do have issues about now being IN the “Daddy” labeled category. I suppose that is part of the reason I am doing the training for the 150 Mile Two Day Bike Ride To Conquer Cancer for Johns Hopkins [CLICK HERE TO SPONSOR ME]. Yesterday, much to my surprise, I did a training ride of 31 miles. Even more surprising, the only lingering effect from that ride today is sunburn on my upper arms. I might actually manage to really, REALLY do this. Which won’t make me any younger nor turn me into someone who looks like this:
… but might make me actually be able to hear someone call me a “hot daddy” without cringing and assuming they are looking for cash. I was a hot daddy when I was done the ride; hot as in sweating and stinky and in need of a two hour shower.
A little truthier, however: after the ride, I went to a party. Started at 5. I left by 8. I know, right? My quads were exhausted. My entire body was exhausted. And too, one of the first things that happened at the party was that I was subjected to this wench from South Africa who doesn’t like me, or, thinks me below her. The party was in an upper middle-class enclave where I — definitely lower class — know a number of people who are dear to me, who treat me with love and respect, and who see me not as an income or occupation. Sadly, this woman is NOT one of those; she is arrogant and rude and if I used the B or C words — she would be both — and twice she stepped right between me and another person with whom I was talking and started talking to them as if I were not even there! She greeted, hugged, etc everyone else — and never even LOOKED at me, let alone spoke to me. I remarked about this to someone who shushed me and said, “That was loud, she’ll hear you.” I replied, “Doubt it, she hasn’t seen me or heard me yet, apparently I don’t exist in her world.”
I hate people like that. Arrogant, entitled, rude snobs. Doesn’t she know I am a hot daddy? Everyone else there was delightful. It’s NOT a money thing, it’s a breeding thing. Because while I am definitely not of the financial or political cohort of most of the people at the party, we all get along and treat each other with respect. It’s people like HER who make this world ugly. And who cause the peasants to rise and chop off the oligarchs’ heads and put them on spikes.
Can’t wait to see hers there. Anyway, I left the party early — not because of her, but because of the 30 mile ride, and, too, to come home in time to watch my latest obsession, Orphan Black. I don’t know which of the characters played by Tatiana Maslany I love best:
I want to be as tough and out there as Helena:
Or as practical and resolved and certain as Alison:
But, too, I’d like to be as empathetic and hot and sexy as Fee (played, not by Tatiana, but by Jordan Gavaris — for whom I would LOVE to be a hot daddy):
And that’s my Father’s Day post. Although, why is it Father’s Day instead of Fathers’ Day? Whatever.
Before I go, a few photos by Collier Schorr [CLICK HERE for her]. She is my favorite new photogrartist.